


the witching hour

by Ariesgirl666



Category: The Craft (1996)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash, More tags to be added, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariesgirl666/pseuds/Ariesgirl666
Summary: Twenty years later, and Sarah Bailey is happily married.Twenty years later, and Nancy Downs is still rotting in an asylum.Twenty years later and Rochelle Zimmerman is trying to work up the courage to ask Bonnie Hyper to marry her.Twenty years later, and ancient and powerful forces are beginning to linger on the edges of reality.





	the witching hour

It’s 2018 and Rochelle Zimmerman still lives in the same Boston duplex with Bonnie Hyper. They’d bought it together after college -Bonnie at Vassar and Rochelle at UMass on a swimming scholarship. Alot of things had changed since they were juniors. For one, they no longer had Sarah and Nancy, and Rochelle would be lying if she didn’t miss Nancy’s bold assertiveness and Sarah’s gentle strength. Bonnie’s time at Vassar doing Women’s Studies had led her to realize her bisexuality, and after a few anxious failures and a lot of handwringing she managed to successfully ask Rochelle out to dinner.

Rochelle, who’d felt That Way about Bonnie back when she had scars and hid herself in baggy clothing, had accepted. They’d been dating for about six years now.

Some things had stayed the same. Bonnie still practices divination in the flames of sweet-smelling candles when Rochelle’s at work at the _Boston Gazette_ , and Rochelle still wears crystal necklaces under her sweaters to channel their energy.

When Bonnie sees _unknown number_ flash across her iPhone screen, she almost doesn’t pick up. She is at work, after all.

But Professor Lam isn’t expected for another few minutes, so she picks up.

“Bonnie Hyper.”

“Bonnie? It’s Sarah.” And suddenly Bonnie can _see_ her in her mind’s eye, with a clarity none of the other girls had ever possessed. Little Sarah Bailey, wearing a lavender turtleneck dress and white stockings, standing by the landline in a parlor on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, her hair shorn into a sleek bob. _She’s aged well,_ Bonnie thinks with some dismay. _Good for her_.

“Thanks,” Sarah says smugly, a quick smirk flashing over her pixie features, and Bonnie’s finger hovers over the _end call_ button. _Telepathic bitch._

“Bonnie, wait, I’m sorry!” Sarah cries, and the urgency in her tone does the trick.

“What is it?”

And then Sarah says the words Bonnie knew were coming. “It’s time to get the coven back together.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Sarah_ called you?” Rochelle doesn’t _gasp_ , exactly, she’s never been the type of girl to gasp, but it’s a close thing. She’s in her office at the _Gazette,_ finger curling around the gray-black cord of the landline.

“Yeah,” Bonnie sounds shaken. “She says there’s some sort of danger at our own school.”

“Our old school?” Rochelle thinks of Laura Lizzie, and all the other girls who tormented her. “Let it _burn_ for all I care,” she spits.

“Rochelle…”  
“Bonnie, you _know_ how they treated us.”

There’s a pause.

“But don’t you miss it?” Bonnie’s tone is full of longing. “Being a witch? The Four Elements together as they should be?”

Rochelle thinks of divining in the shower before work, moment hurried so that Bonnie won’t awake and catch her practicing magic. She remembers a sunlit field. The cherries-and-wine taste of Nancy’s lipstick. The electric rush of Manon’s power flowing through her as she swam. Laura Lizzie’s bald, racist little head.

Bonnie takes her silence as an affirmation, and it is one. “I’ll call Sarah back.”

“Do that,” Rochelle says, and the line goes dead.

 

* * *

 

 

“You look well,” Sarah says awkwardly once they’re standing together again. Rochelle has spurned her usual pantsuits in favor of a flowing white dress, the style of which she hasn’t worn since high school. It makes her feel more like herself already.

Bonnie took extra time getting ready that morning, doing her hair up and back down again until she finally decided to just leave it in a ponytail. They stand together at Grand Central, three stoic forces amidst the chaotic energy of the station. Bonnie smiles at the compliment. “So do you.”

Sarah’s smile reaches Rochelle, and time freezes. For a moment, it’s almost like Bonnie and Rochelle didn’t help Nancy try to kill Sarah. Almost like Sarah never nearly hit them with a tree branch and messed with their minds as a simple display of her power, or severed their link to Manon. And then Sarah’s smile fades slightly, and it all comes rushing back.

Bonnie notices a wedding ring on Sarah’s finger, platinum, with a sapphire engagement band beside it. “We have one more stop to make,” Sarah is saying when Bonnie’s attention lifts.

“No,” Rochelle says at the same time as Bonnie says, _“Yes_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry, Miss Downs is only allowed to be visited by friends and family.”

“We _are_ her family!” Bonnie protests, despite the fact that she hasn’t thought of Nancy in years. Meanwhile, Rochelle is brandishing her cellphone. “Do you want me to call my lawyer?”

But Sarah simply holds one hand up. _“You are going to let us see her,”_ she says, in a voice like spiderwebs.

The attendant’s eyes go blank. “I am going to let you see her,” she repeats monotonously.

Bonnie and Rochelle exchange a glance. Rochelle mouths _Creepy_.

 _“Take us to her room and lock the door,”_ Sarah orders in that same terrifying voice. The attendant obediently leads them to the room farthest away from the others, opens the door. “Miss Downs, you have visitors.”

“I’m flying!” calls a painfully familiar voice from the inside of the room. _Cell,_ Rochelle thinks, _would be a better term for it._

 _“Now forget the last five minutes, turn around, and go back to your desk,”_ Sarah says with a snap of her fingers. The attendant does.

“You never lost your magic,” Bonnie says as she enters the room, awed. Sarah shrugs. “Neither did you two. I just tricked you into thinking that you did.”

Rochelle is torn between wanting to hug Sarah and wanting to punch her, so she does neither. “You -”

“Nobody can take a witch’s magic from her,” Sarah explains briefly. They reach the foot of Nancy’s bed. The door swings shut behind them, and Rochelle suppresses a shudder. Nancy’s eyes are rolling, and she’s chanting _manonmanonmanonmanonmanon_ but as soon as the door closes, she sits up, as composed as you please, and says, “Hello, girls.”

Sarah folds her hands demurely. “Hello, Nancy.”

“Back together again, huh?” Nancy throws her head back and laughs. She should look more vulnerable without all her dark makeup, and with these new dark bangs, but she doesn’t. She only looks more dangerous. Her ice-chip eyes haven’t lost their dangerous tint, and her lips…well, Rochelle finds it better not to focus on those for now.

“We need your help, Nancy,” Sarah says.  
“Oh, and I would just _love_ to help the bitch who took away my magic and threw me in an asylum!” Nancy cackles, and it echoes shrilly. Bonnie cringes. “Nancy, please -”

“I’ll unbind you,” Sarah offers.

Nancy freezes. “You’ll…what?”  
“I’ll unbind you from doing harm. Harm to yourself and harm to others. You’llbe free, and you’ll be able to use your magic for whatever you please. All you have to do is help me with this one little favor.”

Nancy’s crazed eyes flit from Sarah’s to Bonnie’s, and finally to Rochelle’s. Seeing what she needs in Rochelle’s brown eyes, she claps her hands together. “Who are we killing, ladies?”


End file.
